Take a Bow
by Ozzy1
Summary: Songfic. A young boy admires a young performer from afar, but will his love be known and returned? Shonen-Ai


Disclaimer: I do NOT own Gundam Wing or ANY of their characters! I claim no rights to them! Their not mine! As for the song, it's Madonna's 'Take a Bow', so I take no credit for it either! None of them are mine! Nope nope nope!  
  
()-song lyrics  
  
  
  
Young Quatre Winner is sitting alone in a balcony of an old stage theater, wearing a old fashioned formal suit, his arms resting on the railing as he leans forward slightly. You can only see the back of his head, but you soon circle around to see that he is looking downward with an intense gaze, almost longing. He then turns and stands, taking his hat and exits the balcony. You then follow his previous gaze, sweeping over the sea of empty red velvet to settle on the large stage below.  
  
(Take a bow, the night is over  
  
This masquerade is getting older)  
  
A lone figure of a young man is spotted on the dimly lit stage wearing what seems to be a harlequin suit with a half cut off clown mask. As you circle him, he slowly strolls across vast platform, running a gloved hand along the dropped black velvet curtain that he walks beside, stopping to turn and gaze out almost thoughtfully at the empty space, his back turned towards you.  
  
(Light are low, the curtains down  
  
There's no one here)  
  
After peering out at the seemingly barren theater, he reaches up with a white gloved hand and removes the mask, holding it limply at his side.  
  
([There's no one here, there's no one in the crowd])  
  
The small blonde now appears beside the large exit/entrance doors that lead into the theater, his hands in his pockets, leaning back against the wooden frame, his hat tucked under his arm. He continues to look wistfully at the young performer at the stage below.  
  
(Say your lines but do you feel them  
  
Do you mean what you say when there's no one around [no one around])  
  
Trowa is now onstage, practicing the routines and rehearsing his cues along with the other members of the troupe. All are out of costume, Trowa wearing a white tank and simple, long, black pants. They are all laughing, smiling, having a wonderful time with each other, they all seem to be great friends.  
  
(Watching you, watching me, one lonely star)  
  
You seem to be onstage along with the troupe, but you are looking out into the empty seats of the theater, save for one. Quatre is sitting in that seat, his pose attentive, yet relaxed, his hands clasped in his lap. As the performers continue to jump and dance across the stage, they start to fade, almost as if they were only ghosts of a memory.  
  
([One lonely star you don't know who you are])  
  
Yet Trowa still remains, alone on the stage, sitting down on the hard wooden floor with a bottle of water clutched in his hands, looking over what seems to be a script. It seems as if there wasn't ever really any other person on the stage besides Trowa.  
  
(I've always been in love with you [always with you]  
  
I guess you've always known it's true [you know it's true])  
  
Trowa is in his dressing room, looking in his mirror to clean off the make- up. As you circle around to see his reflection, you see his entire room is a storage house of bouquets of roses, some large, some small, a variety of colors, yet all are missing a card, the identity of the admirer kept a secret.  
  
(You took my love for granted, why oh why  
  
The show is over, say good-bye)  
  
An array of faded old fashioned posters slowly creep across, some with the lettering "AMAZING!" "ASTOUNDING!" "ONCE IN A LIFETIME!", but on each poster and flyer is man in an acrobatic clown suit seems to always be there, either tumbling, walking the high wire, or acting a scene from a play.  
  
(Say good-bye [bye bye], say good-bye)  
  
Quatre is in his room, the posters pinned up on his wall, almost covering the entire section of the room. He is lying on his bed, wearing a dark blue shirt and black pants, one arm folded behind his head as he reclined against the pillow. In his hand he holds one of the posters, an expressionless look about his face.  
  
(Make them laugh, it comes so easy  
  
When you get to the part  
  
Where you're breaking my heart [breaking my heart])  
  
Trowa is again on the stage, except this time he isn't alone. He is performing a scene of a play with a lovely female actress. Boastful lines are spoken as he sweeps the woman off her feet with a smile and kisses her, much to the joy of the laughing and clapping audience, save for a stone faced blonde high in the balcony, clutching the playbill in his hand tightly for a moment as he watched the kiss.  
  
( Hide behind your smile, all the world loves a clown  
  
[Just make 'em smile the whole world loves a clown])  
  
Lights are streaming, the band is playing thunderously in the pit, streamers are flying, signaling the end of the show. The entire cast is lined up on the stage, all holding hands and bowing to the standing ovation the audience is throwing at them. Trowa is in the front, smiling faintly and waving his gloved hand in thanks and appreciation toward the audience.  
  
(Wish you well, I cannot stay  
  
You deserve an award for the role that you played [role that you played])  
  
His gaze roams over the audience, quite pleased that they are happy with the performance, yet his waving falters as his eyes travel up towards a balcony. His smile fades and his hand drops slightly. The balcony is empty, the only sign or trace that anyone occupied it is the faint rustling of the curtains that the guest must have brushed by as he exited the balcony.  
  
(No more masquerade, you're one lonely star  
  
[One lonely star and you don't know who you are])  
  
Again, as Trowa is seen again, onstage with his comrades, you seem to be retreating from the stage, the lights dimming, the actors, tumblers, magicians, and audience slowly fading away into the darkness and nothingness. Only Trowa remains on the stage standing in the center of a single spotlight, his head bowed slightly.  
  
(I've always been in love with you [always with you]  
  
I guess you've always known it's true [you know it's true]  
  
You took my love for granted, why oh why  
  
The show is over, say good-bye)  
  
Quatre is at his desk in his room, feverishly writing on a piece of paper with a pen, the only light coming from a lone lamp on the corner of the desk. He pauses, finding a mistake with the letter, and crumbles the paper up and throws it in a far corner. He starts on another letter, but not even finished with the first sentence, he does the same with this one as what he did with the other one; crumbling the paper he throws it away. He drops the pen on his desk, a look of angst and frustration on his face as he holds his head in his hands.  
  
(I've always been in love with you [always with you]  
  
I guess you've always known it's true [you know it's true]  
  
You took my love for granted, why oh why  
  
The show is over, say good-bye)  
  
He sighs heavily, leaning back in his chair limply. He looks over his shoulder at all of the posters and flyers on his wall, a thoughtful expression on his face. After a few moments of contemplation, he then takes the pen in hand and starts writing again.  
  
(Say good-bye [bye bye], say good-bye)  
  
(All the world is a stage [world is a stage]  
  
And everyone has their part [has their part])  
  
Trowa is entering his dressing room. He sets his jacket down and looks at his desk in wonder. Two large bouquets of red roses greet him. He spots a card attached to one of the bouquets. Curiously, he walks over and opens the card. Written in beautifully cursive ink are the large letters, " Love you"  
  
(But how was I to know which way the story'd go  
  
How was I to know you'd break)  
  
It's night, the streetlights are on, and Trowa walks out of the theater, wearing his normal attire of jacket and white jeans. One of the bouquets are in his arm, a smile splayed across his lips. He meets the young actress he performs with a few steps away. She beams at him, pleased at his expression. He seems to be inquiring to her about the roses.  
  
([You'd break, you'd break, you'd break])  
  
She grins, nodding enthusiastically. He smiles broadly, embracing her in the middle of the lonely street in a kiss, having dropped the bouquet.  
  
(You'd break my heart)  
  
From a distance away, Quatre is standing underneath the light of a street lamp, wearing a black trench coat and hat. He sees the couple in front of the theater in their embrace, a pained expression on his face.  
  
(I've always been in love with you  
  
[I've always been in love with you])  
  
He looks down, bringing the single red rose that he had been holding in his hand up to look at it. He then looks back to the couple, then down to the forgotten bouquet at their feet for a moment before dropping the rose in the wet gutter.  
  
(Guess you've always known  
  
You took my love for granted, why oh why  
  
The show is over, say good-bye)  
  
He pulls his hat down and slides his gloved hands into the pockets of his black trench coat, turning away from the two people into the opposite direction and slowly walks out of the light to be swallowed by the foggy haze in the street.  
  
(I've always been in love with you [always with you]  
  
I guess you've always known it's true [you know it's true]  
  
You took my love for granted, why oh why  
  
The show is over, say good-bye)  
  
You recede again from the image of Quatre walking down the street, the picture changing to the faded black and white style of an old movie theater. The words "FIN" flash and flutter about the screen. Only one person is in the audience section. He waits for a moment for the credits to finish rolling, then stands, taking his jacket over his shoulder and exits the theater room.  
  
(Say good-bye [bye bye], say good-bye)  
  
Duo exits the theater, putting on his jacket. He looks back almost in reverie to the movie title lit up on the large sign atop the theater entrance, smiling softly as he sees the words 'Starring: Quatre Winner"  
  
(Say good-bye)  
  
  
  
  
  
~~*~~ End ~~*~~  
  
  
  
  
  
-Prrrrr! Hope you guys liked! T'was my first songfic, I hope I get some constructive critisizm! I'm quite happy with it, though I'm afraid I turned sweet little Quatre into a bit of a stalker...o0 


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